feasting on the word
"If you meditate on the Scriptures it will appear to you in its brilliant splendor." ―St. Pio of Pietrelcina
Third Sunday of Lent (C) Exodus 3:1-8a, 13-15 | Psalm 103: 1-2, 3-4, 6-7, 8, 11 | 1 Corinthians 10:1-6, 10-12 | Luke 13:1-9 There are two ways we can look at suffering. It can make us feel angry and bitter, or it can help us feel closer to God. The readings for the Third Sunday of Lent teach us to think more deeply about suffering and death. Our heavenly Father sees us and understands our pain, fears, and struggles. He knows our circumstances, and He is always ready to save us—we just have to trust Him and take the leap of faith. There was once a family in Sampaloc, Manila, whose house suddenly caught fire. As the parents hurried to escape, making sure to grab their children’s hands, their little daughter, Emily, let go of her father’s grasp and ran back upstairs to get her music box. But when she tried to come back down, the flames had already blocked her way. Trapped and afraid, she rushed to the roof and cried out for help. Her father, Emilio, stood below with his arms open wide and called out, "Emily, jump! I'll catch you!" He could see her fear, but he knew that jumping was the only way to save her. Emily, however, could not see her father through the thick smoke. All she could see were the flames surrounding her. She hesitated and cried, "Tatay, I can't see you!" Emilio’s voice was calm but firm: "Don’t worry, honey. Just jump. I’m right here, and I will catch you. Even if you can’t see me, I CAN SEE YOU, and that’s all that matters." Tears filled Emily’s eyes, but she knew her father would never fail her. Trusting his words, she took a deep breath and jumped. The next thing she knew, she was safe in his arms.
There are times when it feels like God doesn’t see our struggles. We may feel forgotten, wondering if He hears our prayers. In the midst of life’s hardships, we ask, “Where is God in all of this?”But the truth is, God sees us, especially in our suffering. In our first reading, we hear how deeply He cares for His people. He tells Moses: “I have seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their cries of distress because of their slave drivers. I know their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them and lead them to a land of abundance.” God didn’t promise an instant miracle. Instead, He called Moses and the Israelites to trust Him before they could see His plan unfold. They had to take a step of faith, believing that God was in control. Like Emily, who trusted her tatay Emilio and jumped into his arms, we are called to trust our Heavenly Father completely. We may not always see Him at work, but He sees us. We may not have all the answers, but He knows us. If you’re going through a difficult time, I pray that you will find comfort in knowing that the God who sees all things also sees you. I was sitting in a hospital room in Dasmariñas City, talking to a friend whose deeply faithful mother had been diagnosed with brain cancer. She was visibly upset, wiping away tears as she said, "I’m struggling to believe this is part of God’s plan. Why does my mom have to suffer? She spent her whole life serving Him." I looked at her and gently replied, "Why not? Maybe it's because people like her are the only ones strong enough to bear it." The real question isn’t "Why do we suffer?" but rather, "What do we do with our suffering?" The French writer Paul Claudel once said, “Christ did not come to do away with suffering; He did not come to explain it; He came to fill it with His presence.” Similarly, St. Paul, in his First Letter to the Corinthians, reminds us that following Christ isn’t about seeking comfort. Instead, being a Catholic Christian often means stepping out of what is familiar and into the unknown. When we face difficulties, we must not fall into the same mistakes as the Israelites in the desert, who complained about their less-than-ideal conditions. Instead of asking, “Why is this happening?” we should ask, “What is God teaching me through this?” Do we see our struggles as punishment or as moments of growth? Just as God provided water from the rock to refresh the Israelites and led them to the Promised Land, He will also lead us through our own hardships. Jesus, our rock and salvation, is with us even in the driest and most challenging moments of our lives. Rather than grumbling about discomforts, we are called to trust, be patient, and keep moving forward, knowing that God is guiding us toward our true home. Three men hung on crosses. Gestas, the unrepentant thief, suffered. Dismas, the penitent thief, suffered. Jesus, the Son of God, suffered. Gestas mocked Jesus, demanding to be saved. Dismas, though guilty, humbly asked for mercy. Jesus, innocent, bore His suffering in silence. Each man faced the same pain, the same nails, the same cross. Suffering does not make exceptions—not for the wicked, not for the repentant, not even for the Son of God. It is part of the human experience. But while suffering is given to all, what we do with it is our choice. Dismas found salvation. Jesus redeemed the world. Gestas remained in his pride. In suffering, some find bitterness. Others find grace. The cross does not spare the good, but for those who trust in God, it leads to something greater. If God is all-loving and all-powerful, why does He allow bad things to happen to good people? In today's Gospel, Jesus is on His way to Jerusalem, preaching and healing, when some people in the crowd mention two recent tragedies. In one incident, Pilate’s soldiers killed Galilean worshippers in the Temple. In another, eighteen workers died when a tower in Siloam collapsed. The crowd wants an explanation—were these victims being punished for their sins? At the time, many believed suffering was a sign of God’s judgment. But Jesus immediately rejects this idea. He makes it clear that tragedies are not divine punishment, nor do they mean the victims were worse sinners than others. Bad things happen not because of personal sin, but because suffering is part of life. If suffering were always a consequence of wrongdoing, then the corrupt and wicked would never prosper while good people would always be safe. But reality shows otherwise—disease, accidents, and hardships do not choose between the righteous and the sinful. Yet, even in suffering, God does not abandon us. He remains near, even if we cannot always feel His presence—like fabric so close to the skin that we barely notice it. Saint Teresa of Calcutta put it beautifully: “Pain and suffering have come into your life, but remember: pain, sorrow, and suffering are but the kiss of Jesus—a sign that you have come so close to Him that He can kiss you.” <enrique,ofs>
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About JeffJeff Jacinto, PhD, DHum |